


I’m Alright, I’m Okay

by Ofactor200



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Autism, Autistic Dirk Strider, Autistic Jade Harley, Brother-Sister Relationships, Brotherly Affection, Family Feels, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Mental Breakdown, Minor John Egbert/Dave Strider, Nightmares, Trans Character, Trans Female Roxy Lalonde, Vomiting
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-17
Updated: 2020-10-18
Packaged: 2021-03-09 02:48:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,956
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27067417
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ofactor200/pseuds/Ofactor200
Summary: The kids have finally beat Sburb, but instead of sending them to Earth C, a game glitch sends them back to pre-game earth, trapping the Alphas in their splinter-selves bodies.Aka, a Strider Feelings Jam That Also Has Other Characters In It
Relationships: Dave Strider & Dirk Strider, Jade Harley & Dave Strider, Jake English & Jade Harley, Jane Crocker & Dirk Strider, Jane Crocker & Jake English, Jane Crocker & John Egbert, Jane Crocker & Roxy Lalonde, John Egbert & Dave Strider, John Egbert & Rose Lalonde, Rose Lalonde & Dave Strider, Rose Lalonde & Dirk Strider, Rose Lalonde & Roxy Lalonde, Rose Lalonde & Roxy Lalonde & Dave Strider & Dirk Strider
Comments: 14
Kudos: 27





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hi. I can’t write Homestuck fics, but by god I’m gonna try. 
> 
> Also there is no beta for this. If there are any mistakes in grammar please tell me!
> 
> Tw: body dysphoria, panic attacks

Jane>> Wake.

Your name is JANE CROCKER, and a few seconds ago, you are very sure that you WERE NOT IN THIS BODY. This body that feels weak, brittle, and far too ancient to be yours. Even if you are technically a god. 

You are laying on the ground, having just opened your eyes, staring at the house that is yours, and at the same time, not. You try and move, and feel an ache in your joints that was not there before. And then you look down at your hands. 

They’re wrinkled, and spindly, like you soaked them in soapy water for too long. 

Oh boy. 

Something is wrong. Something is SO wrong, you don’t even know where to start. You feel your breathing picking up a little as you stare down at the rest of yourself, now in a sitting position. 

You’re still in your god tier maid outfit, which doesn't quite fit you right. It’s too loose around your shoulders, which is WRONG because your god tier gettup has always fit you PERFECTLY, thank you very much. 

There’s footsteps on the stairs, and you tense, just as a young man comes around the corner. 

It’s John. He stares. His mouth is open, glasses askew. 

You stare at each other, your heart hammering, until he finally manages to say, “Nanna?”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Visiting some of the others :))

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tw: dysphoria, panic attacks, implied/referenced child abuse

Nanna>> Proceed

Nanna? You’re not Nanna, you’re Jane! And you tell John so! 

“N-no! No. I’m Jane. Young, teenage Jane—we met, I just—“

Nanna. He called you Nanna, and oh god, you can’t breathe. 

You curl in on yourself, trying to inhale. Breathe, Jane, breathe.

“I don’t—“ you break off, voice cracking. “I don’t know what’s going on.” A choked sob escapes your throat, and John’s face turns from confused to concerned. He steps forward slightly from where he’s been standing, stuck it seemed, and looks almost like he wants to hug you. 

You want him to. 

“Jane,” he says as if testing to see if you’ll respond. 

You look up, and see he looks almost as bad as you feel. He looks like he’s about to cry. 

“Oh,” you breathe, as you both reach for each other. “Oh, jimmeny crickets.”

>>BE THE LALONDE GIRL

You are now the LALONDE GIRL, though it is UNSPECIFIED which one. Taking into account the pattern the author wants to continue, let’s say you are the Rogue of Void. 

Your name is ROXY LALONDE, and your head is THROBBING. You’re used to headaches, but considering that you haven’t been drunk recently, and this definitely isn't a hangover, it worries you.

You're on the floor, the floor of YOUR kitchen, which you haven’t seen in a long time. 

Hold on. IS this your kitchen?? It’s different somehow. You’d probably be able to deduce exactly how, if you payed attention, but you don’t want to do that right now. 

There’s shattered glass on the ground, and something wet all over, and it smells like alcohol.

You sit up, groaning, a hand on your temple. 

After a moment you chance standing all the way up. You don’t fall over, which is something you guess. 

You are suddenly acutely aware of how TALL you are. You’ve always been tall for a girl— something you didn’t realize until you entered the game— and now you are inches taller. You’ll bet that you’re that you’re almost six feet tall now. Your cute lil god tier outfit is too short in several places, and too tight (that wasn’t hard though. You’d always been underweight growing up). 

Where are the others?????

Looking around, you have trouble taking in your surroundings. 

What the FUCK is this?

You flop back onto the tile floor, which is lass than graceful considering your extra height, and bury your head in your hands. 

“Mother.”

The voice is tense. You recognize it. You look up. 

Rose is standing in the doorway, staring at you. Her face is almost blank, save for a pinch of lips and eyebrows. 

Oh. Oh NO. Oh no no no no no. 

“Rose, I’m—“ you don’t know what to say. “I’m just Roxy.”

>>BE THE KNIGHT OF TIME

You are now the Knight of Time, otherwise known as Dave Strider, because that is your name. You honestly have no idea what the fuck is going on, and you almost don’t want to know. Except that’s stupid. Of course you want to know what’s going on. 

Dave>>Wake.

You are already awake, and currently in the process of freaking out. You’ve already pestered Rose, who seemed almost as freaked as you, if hidden behind a wall of cold sarcasm. But she had to leave to go and investigate a noise in her house, which she is apparently in now. 

And you’re in your apartment. 

The orange sky makes the animal skulls on your desk glow slightly. It’s jarring, even if it looks cool as fuck. 

You’ve been awake for almost 20 minutes and 15, 16, 17– seconds, and you refuse to leave the room. For some reason. You aren’t sure what you're afraid of. 

Just do it, Strider. 

So you do. Quietly. Being back in this apartment makes you want to be as stealthy as possible. You skirt down the hall, and tiptoe into the kitchen. 

It’s the same as you remember it, unfortunately.

Cold puppet eyes watch you. You suppress a shudder, and continue your silent adventure..... to.... the living room. 

You’re frozen. Sweating. 

HES HERE. 

He’s here. On the floor, but here. You remember how fast he was. If he comes at you, you won’t be able to do anything. And you don’t want it to be like that again. 

You don’t know how long you stand there. Panicking. But it’s long enough that you realize he isn’t moving. 

Not only that, he’s on the floor, face down.

Also— and this is the weirdest fucking part —he’s wearing Dirk’s stupid fucking princely god tier cosplay, which is SEVERAL sizes too small— Dirk was fucking tiny —and damn, this is all kinds of fucked up. 

You stand there for too long. You know it. You’re frozen in fear. 

But something is wrong with the clothes. And so, with every nerve screaming, you step forward. 

You can’t tell if he’s breathing. You don’t want to check. 

Hesitantly, you toe him with your foot. 

He grunts, and you leap about a foot in the air. 

Reflexes like a cat. 

He’s stirring, which you guess is what you wanted???? Except no, not at all. 

Bro pushes himself up a little, shades falling off his face. 

You’re back almost in the kitchen now, heart about to explode out of your chest, wishing you hadn’t touched him.

He looks at you with those uncovered, bright orange eyes, and you squirm. 

“...Dave?”

Bro doesn’t talk like that. He doesn’t sound lost like that. 

“What the fuck,” you say, really meaning it. “What the fuck, Bro.”

He sits up, clothes constricting what must be painfully, given his wince. 

“Bro—“ you break off. He’s studying his hands and chest like they’re exhibits at a fine art museum. 

“Bro.”

He looks, and you regret existing. 

Fuck. 

“No,” he says.

RUN, your mind screams. 

“No... what?”

“Not... Bro.” He’s frowning, almost pouting. 

“Not—“ it hits you. It hits you so hard you almost fall over. “... Dirk?”

He nods. And you absolutely lose your mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please leave a comment :)


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Continuing the Striders, and a checkup on the Harley-English family..

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To my one friend who kins Jake,,,,, this one’s for you boo
> 
> Tw: DYSPHORIA, panic attacks, sensory overload, implied/referenced child abuse, self deprecating thoughts

Dirk>>Lose your shit

Your name is DIRK STRIDER, and this is NOT your body. 

Dave is standing a little ways away, ands up by his head, looking like he wants to say something.

You don’t know what he’s going to say, and it scares you what it might be. 

Everything hurts. Everything is TOUCHING you, your clothes are too tight, biting into you, and this ISN'T YOUR BODY. 

You can feel yourself grabbing at your chest, but you aren’t consciously doing it. You can’t see, and you think you might be crying. You aren’t sure. 

Fuck. Your skin is tingling, this skin that isn’t yours, and you don’t want to be HIM. The him that Dave told you about. 

The last of your composure crumbles, and you bury your face in your hands and begin to cry. 

You aren’t even embarrassed. You don’t have to energy to be embarrassed about breaking down like a baby, in front of your brother, while occupying the body of his dead, abusive guardian. 

You sit that, weeping into your hands to the point where your body is taking involuntary gasps to make sure you’re still breathing. 

Once you’re cried out— which takes a while —your hands are still up covering your face, so you can’t see Dave. But you know he’s still there. 

Your skin hurts. You want to tear it off. 

Now that you’ve calmed down a little, you now start to feel embarrassed. Fuck, this isn’t ABOUT you, fuckass. Dave is still standing there, while you look like THIS. Why do you always fuck everything up? 

Dave>>Observe

You don’t really want to observe this.

Your Bro— not Bro—DIRK— rapidly just broke down before your eyes, while you had no idea what the everloving fuck to do, so you just stood there like a dumbass. While he hid his face, pathetic mewling noises erupting from behind his hands. 

You aren’t sure how long he cries—thats a lie, you know exactly how long—but when he stops, he still doesn’t look up, and you continue to stand awkwardly, trying to think what to do. 

But you can’t focus. You should be comforting him, you think. You would, usually, you’re pretty sure. But you can’t. You can’t and you HATE it. 

THATS NOT BRO, STUPID.

That’s not Bro, but it LOOKS like Bro, and so you can’t move. Stupid trauma brain. 

You’re still panicking, but truing to reign it in. Failing. At long length, you say, “hey.”

Dirk doesn’t look up, but he shifts his shoulders, so you guess he’s listening. 

“Slow breaths,” you say, unable to follow your own advice. 

This is a really fucked up situation, isn’t it?

>>BE THE PAGE

You are JAKE ENGLISH. You have just AWOKEN on the FLOOR, in front of a FIREPLACE. 

This is a startling development. You weren’t here before, you’re quite sure. 

The next thing you realize is that you are quite a bit taller, and wider than before. Your clothes have basically torn off of you, unfortunately.

You think maybe you’ve grown suddenly, before realizing that’s moronic. 

Standing, your bones creak oddly, and you grunt. 

You grab a blanket off the nearby armchair, and wrap yourself in it.

Your head hurts. You run your hands across your face, and realize you have a mustache. 

For some reason, your spontaneous facial hair shocks you more than change in body type. 

You blunder around until you find a mirror and are able to see your face, and peer intently at yourself, outlined by the gold frame.

“Fiddlesticks,” you exclaim quietly. 

That’s not your face, only it is. It’s your face, just old, wrinkled, shoved sideways and warped. It’s kind of terrifying. You look down at your hands, and then make yourself STOP. This will not do. 

Where are your friends? Are they experiencing the same body warping madness as you?

Shaken, you wander around a little more, peering at the many stuffed beasties settled around you. 

You walk up some stairs, and through rooms, with a sort of detached disinterest. Everything felt unreal. 

You enter a room, and freeze. 

There is a bed, and on it, a sleeping girl. 

Jade Harley, your teenage grandmother, and ecto-daughter. 

She’s curled on her side, red shoes peeking out from inside her fluffy black witch skirt. Her chest rises and falls gently, seemingly calm. 

You consider waking the little lady, but decide against it. You don’t know how she’d react to a strange man standing over her while she slept. You know YOU wouldn’t take too kindly to it. 

Too late. 

Her eyes slowly open behind huge glasses, and they land on you. They stare in an unseeing way, and then widen. 

And she launches herself at you. 

“Grandpa!”

You barely manage to catch her, as you are currently wrapped in a blanket, and she buries her face in your chest. You stand still in shock. 

Grandpa. 

Oh. Not a strange man. You are an IDIOT. 

Guilt envelopes you. You allow yourself to set a hand on her shoulder, and try to look her in the eyes. 

“I’m sorry, little miss—“ that’s too PARENTAL, NO—“Jade, I’m not... I’m sorry. I’m not your grandpa...”

She stares up at you. Her face falls. You have never felt like a shittier person. 

“Jake?” she asks, lip trembling. 

“I’m afraid so.”

Her eyes are filled with tears. She looks up at you. Just. Stares. And then she breaks. 

She buries her face back into your chest, and sobs into it. 

You don’t know what to do. What she wants you to do. 

“Can you just—“ she hiccups finally, pawing at you, “—can you just... h—hold me? Please?”

You do. You don’t say anything.

She clings to you, and you her, and you can feel your heart break.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HI I LOVE JADE AND JAKE
> 
> There will be happy chapters i swear they are just overwhelmed.
> 
> Leave a comment :)))


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A mini chapter with the lalondes :)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HAPPY HALLOWEEN! (If you celebrate). Its been a while since I’ve updated because Rose’s pov is surprisingly difficult to write?? My brain is just too small. 
> 
> Tw: implied/referenced child abuse
> 
> PLEASE EXCUSE BAD PESTERLOGS I CANNOT CHANGE THE TEXT COLOR IM SORRY

Rose>>Wake

You are Rose Lalonde, and you have been awake for approximately two minutes. 

You lay on your bed, staring up at the ceiling. You had gotten up a moment or so ago, seen where you were, and immediately fell back, wishing you could float back into the Medium(you can’t).

You are so angry. You had, in the past, briefly considered what could happen once the game ended, provided you managed to beat it. But this was too much.You whip a pillow against the wall angrily, then become angry with yourself for losing your cool so easily. Oh, lord, you’ve become Dave.

Finally, you grab your laptop off your desk. Maybe your friends have been pestering you. And if they haven’t, YOU surely have more than enough to say on the matter of being stranded back on earth with no warning. 

Though now that you are able to think without being engulfed by rage, you don’t know that you’re stuck here. You haven’t even left your room. 

Opening your laptop, you find that one of your chums HAS been pestering you. Your brother.

turntechGodhead began pestering tentacleTherapist at 10:02

TG: rose  
TG: are you awake  
TG: hello  
TG: guess not  
TG: what the fuck man  
TG: i feel like ive been flung through the vortex of time but its also lined with razor blades and the razor blades only cut you emotionally and mentally  
TG: psychic damage and all that shit  
TT: That is also about how I feel as well  
TT: This is some bullshit  
TG: wow you were even brief  
TG: yeah this sucks  
TG: whats going on  
TT: I dont know  
TG: yeah well why would you  
TG: none of us know anything  
TT: Have you contacted our other friends?  
TG: no  
TG: not yet  
TG: have you left your room  
TT: no, I have not  
TT: I only just gathered the mental energy to answer messages. I have contemplated, but  
TT: I am afraid what I may find  
TG: yeah.  
TG: do you think  
TG: you know  
TG: hes here  
TT: ... I do not know, dave  
TT: I wish i could tell you  
TT: but I would like you to know that I’ll be here

There’s a smash from downstairs, and you jump in spite of yourself. 

There’s someone else in the house. 

You don’t know if you want to find out who, or what (thats a lie), so you sit on your bed, staring at the door, and when you look back at your pesterlog, you have a few more messages. 

TG: yeah  
TG: thanks rose  
TG: and you know  
TG: same goes for you  
TT: thank you  
TT: This may be the worst possible time to say this, but I have to go  
TG: hey no problem  
TG: whats going on  
TT: there was a large crash across the house, I assume from downstairs  
TT: I will talk to you again soon  
TG: alright  
TG: good luck  
TT: thank you. I believe I may need it  
TT: I love you  
TG: damn you do?  
TG: you too

turntechGodhead ceased pestering tentacleTherapist at 10:11

After your conversation with Dave, you are feeling no less uneasy, perhaps even more so. You do not wish to investigate, but simultaneously you must know what caused the sound. 

You contemplate for a second or so, and then slide off your bed, bright blue god tier shoes stepping to the ground with narry a sound. 

You slip out of your room, and find your way downstairs to the living room. Nothing. Just before entering the kitchen, you hear movement. It sounded like something limply hitting the floor.

Not allowing yourself to think, you walk in. 

Your mother is sitting on the floor.

Your heart jumps.

“Mother.”

She looks up, pink eyes wide. You stare at each other for a moment, your heart pounding, and those large eyes grow sad. 

“Rose, I’m—“ she stops, swallowing. “I’m just Roxy.”

“Roxy,” you repeat. The name feels wrong in your mouth, and you resent that. 

She nods a little desperately. 

There’s a long silence, until—

“May I... may I hug you?”

Roxy in your mother’s body gets up quickly, almost overbalances, but steadies herself. 

“I know you aren’t my mother,” you manage weakly. “At least not in the way I...... but please, would you mind—“

She crosses the kitchen and pulls you into her chest.

You allow yourself to lean into her.

“You don’t have to ask,” she whispers in her New York accent.

You laugh, halfway to a sob. But you don’t cry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I JUST FINISHED TYPING THIs WHILE AT AN OUTDOOR HALLOWEEN PARTY MY HANDS ARE FREEZING IM GOFIFMDMDMDNS

**Author's Note:**

> This was just a mini chapter btw, so others will be longer


End file.
